The Greenwater Mining District holds a unique, albeit brief, place in the annals of Death Valley’s storied past, distinguished as the site of its most spectacular mining boom. This remote corner of the American West witnessed an extraordinary influx of prospectors, capital, and dreams, only to see them evaporate with breathtaking speed. Within a mere four years, the Greenwater Mining District transformed from a desolate desert into a bustling hub of over 2,000 people across four towns, boasting 73 incorporated mining companies and attracting over $140 million in capitalization, before returning to its original silence. Its dramatic rise and precipitous fall make Greenwater a name still whispered with caution among investors and cherished by desert folklorists.
While other Death Valley districts like Bullfrog, Lee-Echo, Panamint, Skidoo, and Leadfield experienced their own significant rushes, Greenwater’s genesis was unparalleled in its brilliance and intensity. What truly set Greenwater apart, however, was not just the fervor of its birth but the unprecedented brevity of its existence. This combination of an explosive boom, an incredibly short lifespan, and subsequent complete desertion defines its legend. No other mining camp in the American West has so perfectly encapsulated such initial excitement followed by such profound disappointment.
The Discovery and Early Investment Surge
The genesis of Greenwater’s copper boom, much like many discoveries in the Death Valley region, was an indirect result of the Bullfrog boom located approximately 65 miles to the north. As prime claims in the Bullfrog Hills became scarce, late-arriving prospectors ventured further afield. In February 1905, Fred Birney and Phil Creasor, exploring the eastern side of the Black Mountain Range, stumbled upon rich surface croppings of an immense copper belt in Greenwater Valley while searching for gold. Their discovery quickly caught the attention of prominent figures in the mining world.
Impressed by the samples, Patsy Clark of Spokane, Washington, a renowned copper mining operator, swiftly purchased the claims from Birney and Creasor in May. News of Clark’s acquisition, particularly the surprisingly high copper values found at the surface, soon reached F. August Heinze, the “famous copper king” from Butte, Montana. Equally struck by the promising surface showings, Heinze and his partners immediately invested a staggering $275,000 to acquire 16 copper claims from other early prospectors. The Inyo Independent, reporting on this significant transaction, noted that while “vast copper deposits in the Funeral Range have long been known to prospectors,” their inaccessibility had previously prevented large-scale exploitation. However, with the booming Bullfrog camp to the north and the promise of future railroad expansion into the desert, logistical hurdles seemed surmountable, fueling the initial speculative fervor.
Overcoming Desert Challenges: Water, Heat, and Transportation
As the news of two major copper operators establishing holdings in Greenwater spread, a veritable stampede ensued. Prospectors and mining men flocked to the area, eager to stake their own claims. Predictably, transportation became the immediate and most formidable challenge. Many prospectors, including a reporter for the Inyo Independent, endured a grueling three-day walk from Bullfrog into the new district. The work was arduous, with September temperatures soaring to 113 degrees Fahrenheit, compelling prospectors to rest frequently, even after building each claim monument. Compounding the heat was the total absence of a local water supply, forcing those who ran dry to abandon their work and trek back to Bullfrog, the nearest source of civilization.
By June 1905, Patsy Clark had already deployed eight men to his property, sinking a shaft 35 feet deep. Throughout the year, other key operators, such as Arthur Kunze, secured prime ground and commenced operations. As 1906 dawned, Kunze, Clark, and Heinze found themselves with ample company, as a multitude of mining promoters, prospectors, and miners converged on the district. Clark established a camp to support his mine, and smaller encampments began to dot the valley floor. However, the critical issue of an adequate and reliable water supply loomed large. A Rhyolite stockbroker acknowledged, “The water proposition is the serious drawback in that section at present and will be a matter of considerable expense,” yet concluded, “the earmarks of the country seem to show that any expense would be justified, judging from the surface indications.” The allure of the rich surface indications proved irresistible, drawing continued investment and manpower despite these severe logistical constraints.
The Peak of the Boom: Investment, Rivalries, and Community
The spring of 1906 saw some of Nevada mining’s most prominent names join the Greenwater Mining District boom, with fortunes from Tonopah and Goldfield being reinvested into the promising new copper belt. The Inyo Register confidently proclaimed in May that “All of the great copper magnates are looking to this section, which is destined to become the next great copper district of the world.” By June 1906, this prediction appeared to be materializing, with the copper belt reportedly “proven” to extend at least seven miles. Four of the larger mines were incorporated into full-fledged mining companies, seemingly guaranteeing Greenwater a long and prosperous future.
Even the scorching summer months of 1906, while slowing the rush, could not dampen the optimism. The interest expressed by the Las Vegas & Tonopah and the Tonopah & Tidewater Railroads in extending their lines to the new copper belt further bolstered confidence. Local newspapers heralded the district’s potential to become “one of the greatest copper camps in America,” attracting national mining journals. The Bullfrog Miner noted that only Death Valley’s weather prevented Greenwater from experiencing “one of the biggest booms on record,” yet prospectors continued their relentless pursuit. A stage line from Ash Meadows commenced in early July, with water, painstakingly hauled from 15 miles away, selling for $5 per barrel.
By the end of July, hundreds of thousands of dollars had changed hands through the frenetic trading of mines and claims. Five new mining companies were organized, four of which boasted a combined capital stock exceeding $5,750,000. As the Bullfrog Miner observed, “The townsite epidemic has broken out in a decidedly virulent form.” No fewer than three towns were planned, sparking intense rivalry for the district’s commercial center. Printed warnings in Rhyolite papers urged prospectors to bring their own supplies, as local water sources, including Furnace Creek in Death Valley, were strained to the breaking point. Despite these perils, the allure of Greenwater remained undiminished. A meeting on July 29th formally organized the district, streamlining claim recording and alleviating conflicts.
By August, the district’s nascent towns began to solidify. Competing townsites were surveyed, and one already featured a boarding house, with an estimated population of 300. Stores and restaurants opened, and the Kimball Brothers, Rhyolite’s staging kings, launched a thrice-weekly stage line into Greenwater. Observers counted over 100 freighting wagons daily, struggling to meet demand. Canned tomatoes, cheaper than water (now $10 a barrel) and equally thirst-quenching, became a popular commodity. The boom had a unique characteristic: an abundance of capital preceding labor, with large capitalists buying claims before significant work had even begun. The Bullfrog Miner accurately stated, “It is not a poor man’s region, but one which will require much money to develop it.”
The Battle of the Townsites: Kunze vs. Ramsey
The mid-August landscape saw two main contenders emerge in the townsite rivalry. Arthur Kunze championed the first, often referred to as Kunze or Greenwater, strategically located between the two largest mines: Patsy Clark’s Furnace Creek Copper Company and Charles Schwab’s Greenwater Death Valley Copper Company. Kunze’s townsite quickly developed, offering two stores, a hotel, a restaurant, and corrals under construction. The Salsberry Water Company contracted to supply water, and a petition for a post office was initiated. The Kimball Brothers conveniently rerouted their stage line to Kunze’s camp, and the Tonopah Lumber Company established a lumberyard, supplying 12-horse teams for hauling supplies from Johnnie Siding and a 2,500-gallon water tank. Kunze’s plat, featuring 32 blocks and over 550 lots, received Inyo County approval on August 13th, giving his camp a perceived edge.
Harry Ramsey, however, fiercely promoted his own townsite, confusingly also named Greenwater, though commonly known as Ramsey or Copperfield. Its exact location was fluid, described as 1-4 miles east or southeast of Kunze’s camp, and Ramsey even moved his iron office building from Rhyolite to his site to assert dominance. The rush continued unabated, with one observer noting $25,000 worth of supplies entering the district in a single day. The Engineering Mining Journal compared the excitement to Bullfrog’s peak, with wealthy operators paying up to $200 for automobile transportation to gain an early advantage. For those less affluent, the journey via Johnnie Siding by freight team or Kimball stage was a 12-15 hour ordeal, costing $18 but often requiring days of waiting due to limited capacity.
As August concluded and cooler weather approached, both Kunze and Ramsey redoubled their efforts to attract merchants. Ramsey formed the Greenwater Townsite Company, boasting a restaurant, two saloons, a hotel, and a store by the end of the month. Kunze’s camp, meanwhile, had established a lodging house, a store, a saloon, a restaurant, an assay office, and secured arrangements with several merchants, leading to the organization of the Greenwater Banking Corporation and the Greenwater Mercantile Company. The booming mining activity also empowered labor interests, with the Greenwater Miners Union exceeding 100 members by late October. The Union proudly received two “very fine lots” from the Greenwater Townsite Company for their hall and initiated a fund drive for a union hospital, proclaiming their motto in the Greenwater Times: “It is Justice the World Needs! Not Charity!” The Times also reported on the chief engineer of the Las Vegas & Tonopah Railroad surveying a route into the district and Patsy Clark opening his Furnace townsite to public demand. The first issue of the Greenwater Times closed with an advertisement for the Greenwater Townsite Company, boldly declaring Greenwater “The Greatest Copper City of the Century,” with its mine payroll already surpassing Beatty, Bullfrog, and Rhyolite combined. Real estate sales in Greenwater reached $52,500 in September alone.
The Inevitable Bust and Legacy
Despite the tremendous investment, boosterism, and initial promise, the Greenwater Mining District proved to be a classic “paper boom,” fueled more by speculative fervor and the fame of its initial investors than by sustainable mineral production. The rich surface showings that captivated early investors ultimately did not extend into deep, economically viable ore bodies. The enormous costs associated with deep shaft mining, coupled with the persistent challenges of water scarcity and difficult transportation in the harsh Death Valley environment, quickly outstripped the actual returns. The initial buzz, driven by celebrity capitalists like Charles Schwab, could not overcome the fundamental lack of sufficiently valuable ore.
Investor confidence, once soaring, rapidly crumbled as production failed to meet expectations. Within a mere year of its peak, the vast majority of companies had pulled out, and the district was virtually deserted. By 1909, just four years after its spectacular birth, the Greenwater Valley was once again barren, a testament to the ephemeral nature of speculative mining ventures in unforgiving landscapes. The Greenwater Mining District stands as a poignant reminder of the intoxicating power of the Western mining frontier and the stark realities that often followed the initial rush. It remains a fascinating chapter in Death Valley’s history, a place where dreams of copper fortunes soared high only to fall faster than anywhere else.
